


Insufferable and Impossible

by bottseveryflavorbeans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Harry Potter, Coffee Shops, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Drarry, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gilmore Girls Inspired, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, M/M, One Shot, Post-Hogwarts, Potions Professor Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter, Slytherin Scorpius Malfoy, Widower Draco Malfoy, admitting feelings, cafe owner harry potter, coffee addict Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 09:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20794355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottseveryflavorbeans/pseuds/bottseveryflavorbeans
Summary: It’s good coffee for Merlin’s sake, Draco asserted. His job is hard and exhausting and coffee keeps him alert and it just so happens that the best coffee around is made by Harry Potter. There’s nothing more to it.Draco finally admits his feelings to himself and it turns out pretty okay. :)





	Insufferable and Impossible

The early summer sun felt like a spotlight following Draco as he walked from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade for his afternoon coffee. In fact the world around him seemed to be spying on him, conspiring even, to make him confront his feelings. The birds all seemed to chirp in his direction and the breeze curled around him. Even the eyes of passersby lingered on him as if they  _ knew _ .

_ It’s just coffee _ , Draco told himself.  _ Just coffee _ . 

Yet, Scorpius’s accusation echoed in his mind. Draco could picture his son’s little smirk as he claimed Draco’s daily trips to Hogsmeade were anything other than caffeine related. The accusation was preposterous, of course. The cafehad good coffee, no,  _ exceptional _ coffee. That was it. It had nothing to do with the owner like his son said. The walk was worth it after rambling about potions all day to student’s who couldn't tell the difference between a flobberworm and a newt spleen if their dull little lives depended on it. And he needed coffee, he reasoned. What academic didn’t?

_ It’s good coffee for Merlin’s sake _ , Draco asserted. His job is hard and exhausting and coffee keeps him alert and it just so happens that the best coffee around is made by Harry Potter. There’s nothing more to it. 

_ I’m only going for the coffee _ , Draco told himself, pushing his son’s words out of his mind. In private, Scorpius had often teased him about his “coffee addiction,” but this morning after class he did so in front of Albus Potter, his best mate and Harry’s son, who smirked knowingly and winked. The simple gesture made Draco feel like he was on display, which was bad enough, but then Scorpius had to go on to add, “You never used to like coffee this much. I wonder what’s so special about Mr. Potter...I mean, Mr. Potter’s coffee.” And now Draco was a mess of nerves as he headed to the cafeand it was all thanks to his son’s unfounded accusation. 

_ It was unfounded, wasn’t it _ , Draco wondered.  _ I don’t actually like Harry that way, do I?  _

He let himself consider the idea as he waved to Ambrosius Fume, who was sweeping out front of Honeydukes. The man, like everyone else Draco passed by looked as if they understood the reason for his contemplative mood and he hated how it made him feel exposed. 

Draco did flirt with Harry, if he was being honest with himself. Their relationship had grown into something quite friendly over the years thanks to their son’s friendship and the unrelenting way Hermione Granger insisted all the parents get together monthly to ‘improve upon their strained school-day relationships.’ What she was too nice to say, of course, was that the lot of them had been anxious when Albus brought Scorpious to a family dinner at the Burrow. They wondered, no doubt, if he inherited Draco’s penchant for being an arse. After they realized Scorpius was a lovely boy, they also had to admit they were going to need to deal with Draco and Hermione's crusade that they all get along began. 

Plus, Draco thought, Harry was one of the only people left in this dismal village that could hold a decent conversation or play exploding snap worth a damn. That of course, didn't mean he liked Harry, or that Harry flirted back—not that Draco wanted him to...well, maybe some part of him did. 

They were both single after all, so flirting wasn’t completely ridiculous even though Draco reminded himself he hadn’t fancied someone since Astoria’s death and that had been a long time ago. He wasn’t even sure that he was flirting, or that Harry was flirting back. Harry and Ginny got divorced shortly after Lily Luna was born and managed a civil break-up and to Draco’s knowledge, Harry had dated a few people casually though nothing ever stuck. The idea had given Draco a sort of far off hope that Harry was waiting for the right person. Not that he thought he was that  _ right _ person. Or maybe some days he did, especially on the days when Harry laughed at the way Draco played snap and smiled when Draco eventually kicked his arse. On those days, he definitely let himself believe that he was right for Harry. And that Harry was right for him. 

There was a small part of his brain that lingered in those moments, curled around them protectively and wished. But then he would look at Harry, and know he was being ridiculous to let himself think for even a moment that they could be anything more than friends. Draco would remind himself that he was lucky they managed friendship. 

Anyway, none of that meant he only went to the cafeto see Harry. There were other reasons like needing a break after a long day and needing conversation that had nothing to do with Hogwarts, students, or herbology, which Neville, his only real friend among the professors, droned on about as if it were the only thing on the planet that he found fascinating—and maybe he did. And on top of all of that, he really did enjoy the coffee. Scorpius was wrong. 

Draco wondered if Harry noticed his flirtations. Merlin, did other people notice? If Scorpius and Albus thought Draco was flirting—did Ginny or Hermione or Ron think that, too? At their monthly parents dinners, were they all watching how often Draco smiled at Harry or how often they left at the same time so Harry could walk Draco home? Was it obvious in the way Draco found every excuse to touch Harry from placing a hand on his lower back to walk past him to brushing fingers when Harry passed the bread bowl?

Could Draco’s behavior be passed off as simple friendship as Draco always reminded Scorpius? And was Harry unaware that they flirted? Or that Draco flirted? He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know the answer. If Harry knew he was flirting, did Draco want to do more than flirt? And if Harry wasn’t flirting, would Draco be upset that he wasn’t? 

_ Harry wasn’t flirting _ , he decided. Their sons were best mates after all, and they saw a lot more of each other since Harry and Ron opened a cafein Hogsmeade two years ago. It was just Harry being polite. He was probably nice to all his customers. And Draco has definitely seen Harry touch Ron’s arm when they talk, so he knew Harry was a touchy-feely guy. And sure they quipped back and forth and sure Draco found himself going there more than he needed to, but that didn't mean anything. 

It was all in Draco’s head, or his son’s for that matter. In fact, he had hardly given it any thought at all until Scorpius began teasing him, but as he approached the tavern, he had to admit—the idea wasn’t altogether off-putting. In fact, for a breath of a moment, he let himself indulge and really think about Harry and how he felt whenever Harry got in close to whisper a joke to him at the dinner table about how no matter how hard she tried Hermione just couldn’t cook. He thought about the walks home, where Harry would stumble into him and play it off like an accident, but there would be something in his smile—something wistful and far-off that made Draco’s stomach sink. 

When he reached the tavern, Draco paused at the door to gather himself. The outside looked humble, enchanting, and even a bit folksy like something out of a children’s novel. It didn’t look at all like a cafethat served three different kinds of fish and chips. Dark bricks and wooden pillars made up most of the building's outer structure. It was impossible to see through the stained glass windows, but the cheerful sounds from within could be heard outside.

As Draco entered through the heavy, wooden door, he was welcomed by laughing voices and a feeling of comfort. The smell of fresh brewed coffee flooded his senses and he felt at ease. It was just about the coffee. He was here for the coffee and it smelled divine. 

Harry was busy taking orders when Draco entered, but he still managed to welcome Draco with a wink and nodded for him to take a seat at the counter. It wasn’t out of the norm for Harry to greet him that way, but today the wink made his stomach flutter like a school boy. 

Draco watched Harry move from table to table, scribbling frantically as the customers ordered their meals and then levitating their orders to the kitchen. He wore a green and blue flannel tucked into faded jeans with a white apron tied around his waist. His long dark messy hair was tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. He moved through the mismatched tables with practiced ease. Some tables were long and rectangular, others small and circular. All of them packed with people for the evening rush. 

There were two waiters weaving in and out of the tables like mice in a maze, setting plates down and refilling drinks. Draco could never remember the girls name. It was Matilda, or Madeline, or something. The boy was Joseph. Draco had taught him his first year at Hogwarts. He had been good at measurements. Very precise. Only one of his potions ever blew up. Joseph nodded at Draco and continued collecting dishes. 

There was a symphony of clanging and banging coming from behind the counter where the kitchen and the cook, Ron Weasley, were located. Draco snapped his head in the direction of the bang and heard Ron curse. He said something about Merlin’s sister’s fat arse that Draco would not dare repeat and he had to hold back a laugh. 

There was a small window to the kitchen and Draco occasionally saw a tuft of red hair bobbing around coupled with spices levitating around him like a well-seasoned halo. All Draco’s time spent in the cafe had made him grow sort of fond of Ron and his incessant cursing. It was as reliable as the sunrise and oddly as comforting. Strange how things change. If anyone had told him that he’d feel comforted by Ron’s presence, he’d have laughed himself into an early grave. Yet here he was, feeling calmer by the minute because Ron was there and he could add that to the list of reasons that he came to the cafe that had nothing to do with his maybe-feelings for Harry.

After a few minutes of listening to Ron stringing together a sentence full of curse words that could rival a sailor at port, Draco saw Harry coming over to him. He slipped behind the counter and tucked his pencil behind his ear. “Hello.”

Draco smiled in spite of himself, and instead of saying hello back, he said, “Harry. Coffee. Now.” He grabbed the mug sitting in front of him and shoved it toward Harry like he usually did. Though, it felt anything but usual today. 

“Draco. Money. First,” Harry answered. He held his hand out palm up, ignoring the cup. A soft smile spread across his face. It reached his annoyingly green eyes and lit up his whole face in a way that was as breathtaking as  _ Witch Weekly  _ made him out to be in their most recent article called  _ The Boy Who Lived to Open a Cafe _ . 

“Ugh, I'm dying though,” Draco whined, trying to ignore the cacophony of pixies fluttering in his stomach and pulled out his money and handed it to Harry, who flicked his wrist at the register. It opened with a clank and Harry deposited the money. 

“Coffee. Need coffee.” Draco waggled the mug in front of Harry and pouted until Harry turned around and grabbed the coffee pot and began pouring. 

Harry shook his head as he finished pouring. “You drink too much coffee, Professor Malfoy.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice whenever Harry called Draco  _ professor _ —like he still couldn’t quite believe Draco taught children. 

“And you talk too much about how much coffee I drink, Mr. Cafe Man.” Draco sipped the coffee and it tasted as good as it smelled. He closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe it really was just the coffee that kept him coming here. Every cup was like drinking his first cup—the taste new and delicious. He wondered, not for the first time, what Harry did to get the coffee to taste this way. He’d asked once and Harry winked and told him, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you and that would be a shame because there are so few people left in this world who challenge me like you.” That comment left Draco flying high for two weeks. He would conjure up the memory before bed and fall asleep smiling. But that definitely didn’t mean anything, right? 

_ Merlin, fuck, _ Draco thought,  _ this is worse than I thought. It might possibly be more than the coffee,  _ but hell if he’d admit it out loud. It was pure fantasy to think Harry liked him, wasn’t it? 

“How’s your day been,  _ Professor _ Malfoy?” Harry pulled a rag out from under the counter and began cleaning the counter in front of him. 

Draco sighed dramatically and slumped forward on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. Harry laughed and Draco felt a warmness settle in his stomach and it wasn’t the coffee. He took another sip. And another, ignoring how tempted he was to reach out and brush the wisps of hair from Harry’s face. He took one more sip and felt better. 

It was the coffee that brought him here and that was final. All thoughts about flirting and the like we’re planted there by his son, who he was so going to ground later. Harry watched him carefully making Draco wish to Merlin that he’d freshened up his own hair after the last lesson where Randal Nutter had accidentally brewed a mist potion that filled the whole classroom. He was sure he had flyaways. 

One more exaggerated sigh and Draco answered, “The third years are hopeless, but that’s no surprise. McGonagall has asked, no ordered, that I chaperone at the Founder’s Day Festival. And to top it all off, one of the fifth years accidentally turned himself into a frog and we’ve no idea how he did it. So, you ask how I am? I am exhausted.”

Harry laughed. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired all the time if you didn’t drink so much coffee. Maybe then you could sleep like a normal person instead of firecalling me at three in the morning so I can bore you to sleep with my theories on why quidditch is the most ridiculously complex sport on the planet, thus making coffee unnecessary.” He tilted his head to the side and smirked like he had just won a heated argument. He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“Are you kidding?” Draco feigned offense, clutching at his chest. “Coffee is what makes being the potions professor at Hogwarts possible. Without coffee, I die. Do you want my death on your hands, Mr. Potter?” He took another long sip of his coffee, finishing it off. 

“Hmm.” Harry scratched his chin and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to consider. 

Draco laughed, one short exhalation. “Wow, he hesitates. And here I thought we were finally getting on.”

“Joking, only joking,” Harry said. He put his hands up in surrender. A smile spread across his face and Draco felt his heart hammering against his ribs. 

Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Draco slid his empty mug across the counter and said, “Coffee, only coffee.” And plastered a grin across his face that he hoped looked normal and not like he was trying to get Harry into bed which he definitely wasn’t...probably. 

“Ha,” Harry laughed and grabbed the pot. As he poured he added, “You are insane, you know that?” 

Draco felt his face get hot and hoped Harry didn’t notice. He took a sip of his coffee. The second cup was just as delicious as the first. “I may be insane, but at least I am caffeinated.”

Harry laughed. A good, long laugh that made him clutch his stomach. “I can’t believe I entrust the education of my kids to the likes of a coffee addict like you.”

“Ahem, coffee enthusiast,” Draco corrected. He took another sip. “Plus it’s your fault.”

“Mine?” Harry asked.

“Stop making such good coffee and I’ll stop coming in to drink it. Simple.” Draco smirked over the lip of his mug. He was definitely flirting, bugger all. He couldn’t stop himself now that he started. He liked the way Harry looked at him when they bantered like this. It had even been like this as children, though decidedly more negative. Harry had always managed to make Draco feel like he was the only thing worth paying attention to. It was intoxicating. 

There was the briefest moment of silence where Harry watched Draco, biting his bottom lip. Their eyes locked on one another. Draco’s heart pounded even more furiously as if it was trying to get Harry’s attention, too, the traitorous bastard.

Draco moved to open his mouth to say something, anything, that would break the tension, but Ron beat him to it, poking his head out of the little window. “Harry, don’t you dare stop giving him coffee. Draco is our best customer. And the best tipper. His coffee addiction keeps the lights on.”

Harry turned to look at Ron and Draco was thankful to be free of his gaze for a moment. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure and said, “See? Now, do you really want me to stop drinking so much coffee? Without my enthusiastic appreciation for coffee, you would end up living in virtual squalor. Imagine the headlines:  _ Former Golden Boy Begs for Change _ .”

Harry turned back around, one eyebrow quirked up and said, “We don’t want that now do we.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter. It put them face to face.

“No,” Draco’s throat went dry. “No, we don’t.”

Ron came out of the kitchen. His apron was covered in grease stains and white-ish powder of unknown origin which Draco guessed was flour though he was about as hopeless in the kitchen as Hermione—the only difference was he knew it and accepted it, but Hermione couldn’t stand being bad at something. 

Ron’s cheeks were pink and he held a wooden spoon in his left hand and waved it around as he spoke, flicking whatever goop was on the end of the spoon onto counter that Harry just wiped up. “So Rose said they all get to attend the Founder’s Festival this year.”

Draco tore his gaze away from Harry and answered. “McGonagall’s idea. She thinks all of the students should be a part of the village’s traditions. Unity and all that. Though how a Founder’s Day festival turned into a second Valentine's Day, I’ll never understand.”

“Well, Rose said that the wizards who founded Hogsmeade did so as a couple running away from their families who refused to allow their union. One a muggle, the other was a witch. It’s like Romeo and Juliet, or so she says. I’ve no idea what a Romeo and Juliet is though.”

Draco laughed. “It’s a dreadful muggle play.”

“A romantic muggle play,” Harry retorted. 

Draco frowned and added, “They die.”

“Because of love.”

“Because of poor communication.”

“And love.”

“Yes,” Draco felt his face go red, “and love.” He sipped his coffee, thankful for something to do besides look at Harry. 

Seemingly oblivious Ron continued. “Rose is very keen to go. She said the kids are all asking each other as dates to watch the bonfire get lit. She said someone named Bellamy asked her. Is he a decent bloke?”

“The school is a cesspool of hormones and yes, he is a respectable fellow. Hufflepuff’s head boy, good marks. She could do worse.”

Ron nodded approvingly. 

“Even the professors are acting like school children,” Draco added with a sigh. “Asking each other to go on dates, or bringing their significant others, and sending boxes of chocolates. It's like the fourth year all over again.” Once Draco finished his sentence, he bit the inside of his cheek. Why did he mention that? Did he want Harry to know that the professors were taking dates? And if he did, did he expect Harry to ask him? 

Pulling Draco out of his thoughts, Ron asked, “Are you going?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I have to chaperone.” Draco shrugged and chanced a look at Harry, who was staring at the counter as if it were a copy of  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ in its original Old English. His brow was knit and he rang a dish towel in his hands. 

Ron laughed. “It’s a fun festival. It won’t be so bad.”

“Right,” Draco said, tearing his eyes away from Harry, “it will be the highlight of my weekend to watch the students be all gooey-eyed with one another as I stand in the chilly night air. Lucky me.”

“Merlin, I always forget that you are such a drama—” Ron started to say, but then got cut off. 

“Has anyone asked you?” Harry asked, his gaze fixed on Draco. He ignored Ron’s accusatory “Oi” and waited for Draco to respond. He tossed the dish towel down haphazardly. 

Draco shared a confused look with Ron, who shrugged behind Harry’s back. “Asked me what?”

“To go.” Harry said matter of factly. He leaned forward on the counter, gripping the edge as if he was going to float away without its weight. 

“To the festival?” Draco asked. He felt his stomach flop. Was Harry going to ask him to the festival? No, that was crazy, Draco decided. Harry was probably just curious the way friends are curious. Neville had asked him the same question when they were in the teachers lounge that morning and had meant nothing by it. 

Without a beat, Harry asked, “Yes, so has anyone?”

Ron looked at Harry. They shared one of those looks that friends do where no words are exchanged, but a message is sent all the same. Harry made a small shrug of his shoulders that seemed to prompt Ron, who then he added, “Yeah, any hot dates?”

Draco snorted out a laugh, deciding he didn’t want to know what the look meant, well not bad enough to ask at any rate. “Oh, yes. I’ve had five different offers including McGonagall. I think she’s sweet on me, the poor thing. I did have to turn her down though. Think I broke the old girls heart.” 

Ron laughed heartily at Draco’s answer. His face turning red from it. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry wasn’t laughing though. He looked like he did when he was trying to figure out his next move in a game of exploding snap. “So that’s a no?” 

Draco tilted his head to the side and answered. “Yes, that’s a no.”

“Good,” Harry said with a nod. He picked up the dish towel and resumed wiping at the counter, going over the spot where Ron had flicked the goop. 

“Good?” Draco asked, curiously. 

“I don’t mean ‘good’ as in its good that no one asked you…” Harry trailed off with another shrug. 

Draco sat up straighter. “Then how did you mean it?”

Ron let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m gonna…I think the oven is dinging… I think hear my mother calling me…Is that the fire alarm?” Ron babbled as he backed away from the counter. When he reached the doorway to the kitchen he added, “Bye, Draco.” And then disappeared.

Harry turned to where Ron disappeared and shook his head.

“How did you mean it?” Draco asked again, stuck on Harry’s reaction and unwilling to let it go. Was it that Harry didn’t think Draco deserved to be happy? He thought they got past all their old animosity. Maybe they hadn’t? Maybe Harry didn’t actually like him. Maybe he was just being polite all these years. 

Harry stammered, “I, uh, I meant ‘good’ as in, it’s good you don’t have a date so you can focus on your chaperone duties.” Even Harry didn’t look convinced by his lie. 

“Right. Are you sure that’s what you meant?”

“Yes.” Harry chuckled and turned back to the kitchen window. Ron was peering over the ledge and when he saw Harry, he jumped back and disappeared. When Harry turned back he added, “What other way could I have meant it?”

“I don’t know. You tell me?” Draco shrugged, feeling childish. Of course Harry didn’t hate him. Merlin, he was all over the place today. They’d been friends for nearly four years. He took a sip of his coffee and watched Harry, hoping against hope that his reply would be something along the lines of ‘I meant to ask you out,’ but then he balked at his own ridiculousness. No, it was Scorpius’s ridiculousness that put all this in his head. 

“That’s how I meant it,” he affirmed. 

“Okay, if you say so.” Draco felt his stomach sink. Merlin, he actually did want Harry to ask him out. Draco’s muscles tensed and he felt ready to spring up and dash out of the cafe before Harry could realize just how disappointed he was. 

After a moment, Harry replied, “I say so.” 

“Okay, good.”

“Fine,” Harry said with a bit of annoyance in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

“Dandy,” Draco said, matching Harry’s tone. 

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Draco wished he was brave enough to ask Harry if he wanted to go with him. If that’s why it was good Draco didn’t have a date because Harry wanted to be his date. Draco tried to think how to say it, but everything that came to mind was crap. 

Finally, Draco simply asked, “Wanna play a game of snap?”

“Merlin, yes,” Harry answered, looking relieved, and grabbed a deck from under the counter and pushed it across the table. “Deal,” he said. 

“Another cup first?” Draco asked, shuffling the deck. It was a way to pass the time until he had to be back at Hogwarts before bed checks, that was all. Maybe it was an excuse to spend more time with Harry. And maybe it was a way to avoid talking about what was really on Draco’s mind. He really, really hated that Scorpius was right. 

“You know,” Harry said as he poured Draco another cup of coffee. “I still can’t believe Albus said you were his favorite professor. I was having dinner at Ginny and Dean’s last week and she almost fell out of her seat when he said it at dinner. Who would have known that you were so likable when we were in school?” 

“No one. I was a dick in school.” Draco sipped the coffee, grateful to have a reason to hide his smile. He hummed as he swallowed and promptly ignored every part of his mind that screamed at him to tell Harry how he felt, consequences be damned. 

“You were,” Harry agreed. He leaned on the counter and smiled at Draco, watching him intently as he shuffled the deck. Harry’s hair was tied back in a messy bun, and there were wisps of hair tucked behind his ears. His flannel button up was unbuttoned at the top, exposing a tuft of dark hair beginning under the dip of his collar bone.

Draco swallowed hard, placed the deck down, and sipped at his coffee so Harry couldn’t see him practically salivate over the dip of Harry’s collar bone. Plus, it was a welcomed distraction from the scrutiny of Harry’s gaze. 

_ Merlin, get it together, Draco _ , he chided himself. It wasn’t like this was the first time they had played exploding snap, nor was it the first time Harry watched him so intently as he shuffled. But it felt different now that Draco was being a bit more honest about his feelings. 

After taking another sip, Draco asked, “What in Merlin’s name are you staring at  _ Potter _ ?”

At the use of his surname, Harry laughed and leaned even further across the counter. “ _ You _ .” His voice held the promise of a deep, carnal satisfaction that only Harry could give to Draco. 

“Me?”  _ Fuck _ , Draco thought, if Harry kept saying things like that, kept looking at him that way, there was no way Draco would make it out of this tarvern tonight without blurting out something inappropriate. 

Harry flicked his gaze between the mug and Draco’s lips. “You act like every cup of coffee is the first cup you ever tasted. Like you can’t believe how good it feels to take that first sip. It’s written all over your face.”

Draco swallowed, hard, ignoring the heat pooling in his stomach. “Well, what can I say? I like coffee.”

“ _ Like _ ?” Harry asked incredulously, and then bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. 

“Fine, you caught me, Mr. Cafe Man. I’ll admit it. I _like_ _like_ coffee,” Draco said, feeling emboldened by Harry’s closeness, by the way Harry looked at him like he was the only person in the room. So Draco crooked his index finger and gestured for Harry to come in closer and then he whispered in his ear. “But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Harry whispered back, his breath ghosting over the skin on Draco’s neck.

“Right, good. Better not,” Draco stammered as he pulled back to look at those ridiculously, annoyingly green eyes. His actions had backfired on him because that close, Draco could smell Harry’s earthy scent. A mixture of the coffee and sweat and something so uniquely  _ Harry _ . His throat went dry thinking about how Harry might smell in the mornings, right out of the shower. How he would smell at night before bed. How he might smell after…

Draco tore his eyes away from Harry out of sheer necessity, and saw a grumpy looking man sitting a few seats down, eyeing them with an annoyed look on his face. “You have another customer, Potter.” He pointed to the plump looking wizard who came in while they were talking. “Best not to keep him waiting.” 

As Harry ambled away to take the man’s order down at the other end of the counter, Draco watched the way he pulled a pencil from behind his ear and scribbled the patrons order on a notepad. He watched the way Harry smiled at the man, making polite conversation. 

Draco had always told himself the walk to Hogsmeade everyday was worth it for the coffee alone. That it was the coffee, not the owner, that brought him there time and again, but today it was harder to ignore a certain other reason, a certain Harry Potter shaped reason. He absolutely, truly hated that Scorpius was right because Draco would never hear the end of it from his son, not to mention the amount of winks Albus would throw his way when Scorpius undoubtedly filled in his best mate.

“So are you ready to get your butt kicked at Exploding snaps, Professor?” Harry asked as he came back, all of the earlier tension gone from his face. He ripped the person’s order off the notepad and levitated it through the window into the kitchen. Without turning around, he shouted to the kitchen, “Oi, Ron. Tuna melt on rye.”

“Got it, mate,” Ron called from the kitchen. There was a processional of clanging pots and the distinct ‘thwack’ sound of Ron dropping something on the floor. Then some mumbled curses, followed by him shouting, “Everything is fine!”

Harry laughed. “He’s still getting his sea legs.”

“It’s been two years,” Draco said. This was a conversation they had many times. Ron, being as tall and lanky as he was, had no shot at being anything other than clumsy. But damned if he wasn’t a fine cook. 

“He makes the best chips this side of the Atlantic,” came Harry’s designated response.

Draco smiled at their familiar banter. “I will concede that he is a decent cook, albeit a clumsy one.”

Harry nodded triumphantly winning the argument as usual. “So shall we play?” Harry asked as he picked up his cards. 

“More coffee first,” Draco said. 

“I just poured you a cup.”

Draco shrugged. “I finished it.”

“You have a problem.”

“Yes, my problem is my cup is empty and the mean cafe man won’t give me more.”

Harry rolled his eyes and poured Draco another cup. The steam rose from the mug and he sipped at it, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw Harry watching him and blurted out the first thing that came to mind if only to stop thinking about how good it felt to have Harry watch him like he was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Harry, did you do something different to this batch? You’re coffee has been exceptionally delicious today.”

“Well, I added a bit of cinnamon this time, but that’s all I’ll tell you.” Harry pulled out a small container of the spice to show Draco. “Thought I would try something new.”

“Mm, wow.”

“Really?”

“How very upscale cafe of you,” Draco said as he picked up his cards. 

Harry held his cards to his chest. “Well, what can I say, I am very upscale.”

“Ha, right and I am the queen of England.”

“You’re definitely snooty enough to be.” Harry smirked as he said this and when he saw Draco’s affronted reaction, he laughed. 

“Cute. I see where Albus gets his sense of humor from,” Draco quipped. It felt good to fall into this banter. He didn’t have to think as much when they traded hit for hit like they used to growing up. 

Harry scoffed, but there was a smile in his eyes. “And I see where Scorpius gets his witty retorts.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Harry smiled. “I am.”

“But you make good coffee.”

“I do.” 

They started the game and after a few puffs of smoke erupted from the deck, Harry said, “How is it you always manage to out move me?”

“I’m cleverer than you, obviously,” Draco responded without looking up from his hand. 

Harry snorted and placed a card on the pile. “That may be true, but remember who gives you the coffee, Professor.”

Draco’s eyes snapped up to meet Harry’s. “Is the great saviour of the universe trying to blackmail his way into winning a round of exploding snap?”

“I wouldn’t call it blackmail, per say.” Harry’s lips quirked up. “Let’s call it incentive for you to lose?”

It was all Draco could do to keep from laughing. “I have a counter offer for you, Mr. Golden Saviour of All who can’t stand to lose. How about we meet in the middle?”

Harry placed his hand face down on the counter and crossed his arms across his chest. It showed off the taut lines of his muscled forearms. “I’ll hear your terms, I suppose.” 

“My terms are this, you will give me all the coffee I could ever want—shush, no talking until I am through,” Draco said as Harry started to interrupt him. He let out a soft laugh that made Draco highly aware of his own heartbeat. “You will give me all the coffee I could ever want and in return, I will still kick your arse at exploding snap because we both know that deep down you love losing to me. It humbles you and you value that, don’t you?”

Harry was biting his lower lip to keep from talking until Draco finished speaking and the sight was the stuff of Draco’s fantasies. “You are impossible.”

“Impossible, maybe, but what I really am—is right.”

“I’ll tell you what you really are,” Harry said and there was a hint of a growl there, like a predator circling its prey and Draco was surprised at his own carnal reaction to hearing Harry’s voice deepen like that. 

Before Draco could respond, a large party came in and Harry went off to take their orders leaving Draco to overthink their entire conversation—more like their whole long, weird journey to friendship. 

He sat and sipped at his coffee thinking. For the last year, Draco had come into the cafe every day. It had been awkward at first, even though they had grown used to one another thanks to their sons friendship and Hermione’s insistence on all the parents getting dinner once a month for the last few years, so they could get to know each other as adults. But their real, true friendship hadn’t begun until he frequented the tavern. 

Up until that first day, their interactions had been cautious, polite, and even a bit stiff. Though Draco felt welcome by the other parents in a way he never expected, he and Harry tended to tip-toe around one another. How could they not after everything? Draco didn’t blame him for the caution at which he approached even the smallest conversation with Draco since he felt the same way. 

It was like the both knew there was something wedged between them that wasn’t quite ready to be removed, so they kept it there, tending to the space it gave them to heal and grow, but it became harder to ignore the more they saw one another. Even Ginny mentioned something to Draco about it saying she was shocked Harry and Draco didn’t bicker anymore and that she almost missed seeing him rile Harry up because Draco was the only one who could make that vein in Harry’s forehead throb. 

That is what drove Draco to make a point of seeing Harry outside of those parent dinners and thus brought him to the cafe that first time. For his son, he would suffer anything even if that meant Harry had to scream at him and tell him to go fly a broom before they could start being normal around each other. 

_ The first time he came in, he was nervous and originally attributed it to general anxiety because he didn’t want to mess anything up for Albus and Scorpius by having a rocky relationship with Harry. He couldn’t deny Scorpius anything, the spoiled prat, especially not his best mate even if that meant facing the one person who still made Draco feel vulnerable. Now, looking back, maybe something else besides fatherly devotion drove him to go.  _

_ _ _ Draco remembered it had been raining that end of summer kind of rain that is hot and heavy in the air, but somehow is a relief from the incessant shining sun. His hair had been matted to his head by the time he reached the tavern, forgetting to cast an umbrella charm because he was nervous and had been in a wretched mood all day. _

_ _ _ When he entered, Harry smiled warmly and greeted him. “Hello, Draco. What can I get you?” _

_ _ _ “A coffee would be nice.” Draco sat down at what he would eventually begin to think of as his stool. He steepled his fingers and tried to look as casual as possible while droplets of water fell from his hair down his neck and into his shirt.  _

_ _ _ “So, how’s the start of term going?” Harry asked as he poured the coffee into the mug and placed it in front of Draco. _

_ _ _ “Well. It’s going very well, I think.” Draco cupped the mug and felt the warmth on his palms. He was regretting his decision to come in. Their conversation felt forced and awkward without the aid of Hermione, Ron, and Ginny who managed to talk to Draco as if there weren't ever any baggage between them.  _

_ _ _ Harry nodded. “That’s good.” He leaned against the wall behind the counter and crossed his arms.  _

_ _ _ “Indeed it is.” _

_ _ _ “Well, let me know if you need anything else.” _

_ _ _ “Of course.” Draco smiled and drank his coffee. It was delicious and he savored every sip. As he did so, he had looked around the cafe and the attention put into decorating it.  _

_ _ _ The inside looked much like the outside; more fantasy cafethan anything with dark wooden walls and stone flooring. The walls, however, were covered in Knick-knacks of every variety from a commemorative Quidditch poster, to a golden snitch from Harry’s first game as seeker at Hogwarts. The assortment of Knick-knacks made it look more like a tavern. It reminded Draco a living scrapbook of Harry and Ron’s youth complete with a wall of pictures. _

_ _ _ A couple entered the tavern, huddled under an umbrella. They were laughing and leaning their foreheads together, either unaware of the rest of the world, or not caring that it existed. They took a table directly in Draco’s eye-line and he watched them coo at one another. Suddenly, his heart ached for Astoria, who had been dead since Scorpius was a young child. He remembered when they had looked at one another like that. He missed having someone who looked at him like he was the world.  _

_ _ _ “Refill?” Harry asked. His voice like a hammer on glass, breaking Draco out of his memories.  _

_ _ _ “Uh, yes, thank you.” _

_ _ _ Harry poured the coffee and said, “Sweet isn’t it?” _

_ _ _ “What?” Draco asked, moving his gaze from the couple to Harry, who looked as somber as he felt. Draco looked down at his mug in front of him and watched the steam rise like smoke from a fire. “You mean the coffee?” _

_ _ _ “No,” Harry said and pointed to the couple. “Them.” _

_ _ _ Just then the couple were looking over the menu. They had pulled their chairs to the same side of the table, unable to stand being separated. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they leaned over the menu and pointed at items and laughed at whatever private jokes they made. _

_ _ _ Without thinking how it sounded, Draco blurted out, “I miss that.” Then he felt heat rise up the back of his neck. His heart thudded in his ears. He had never admitted anything like that out loud. He never wanted Scorpius to worry or think him unfaithful to Astoria’s memory, but as he said it now, he felt sort of relieved to admit that he did want that again...someday.  _

_ _ _ “What?” Harry asked, confused. He too had been watching the couple. His mouth downturned as he took in the scene.  _

_ _ _ “Having someone who looks at you like you’re the world. The butterflies in the beginning that make each touch, each look, something earth-shattering, and then growing with each other, learning little quirks and having someone understand you better than you understand yourself,” Draco admitted. The words flew from his mouth as unplanned as his first confession, but he did not feel quite as embarrassed this time.  _

_ _ _ Harry leaned on the counter, putting them face to face and said, “I’ll tell you a little secret, I miss it too.” Harry looked sad up close. His dark hair falling around his face and his circular glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. _

_ _ _ Draco wanted to comfort Harry just then. He wanted to cup his face and promise him he would have love again. That if anyone Draco knew deserved to find love, it was Harry. Instead he settled for saying, “You’ll have it again.” _

_ _ _ A smile crept across Harry’s face at the words. He stood up and adjusted his apron. He looked serious and said, “So will you.” _

_ _ _ Draco felt doubtful. Astoria had been the only person who never judged him. She accepted Draco as he was, never as she hoped he would be someday. The thought of having that kind of total acceptance again felt like a wish more than an actuality. “You think?” _

_ _ _ Harry looked at Draco for a long moment and nodded, “I know. It will happen again for both of us.” _

_ _ _ “Thanks, Harry. For that and the coffee.” Draco stood up and placed a few sickles on the counter. He tugged his raincoat tight around his middle and smiled.  _

_ _ _ “Anytime, Draco.” _

At the time, Draco had thought nothing of the knot in his gut at Harry’s kind words when he left. It had been grief, or longing for Astoria, nothing more, but sitting here now, watching Harry taking orders, Draco wasn’t so sure. 

_ It’s not just the coffee _ , he admitted to himself, fully. 

The acceptance made Draco feel exposed all over again. Though no one was looking at him, he felt like he had eyes on his back. The urge to get up and flee hit him like a bludger to the stomach. Even back then, it had been Harry that he wanted to look at him like he was the world. Even as far back as school, he had wanted Harry’s attention. Astoria knew about it and understood that Draco’s obsession in school had gone a bit further than general animosity, though he never admitted it. She’d always told him that there was a fine line between love and hate and he’d always tell her that the line wasn’t  _ that _ fine. It always made her laugh and pull him into a deep, considerate kiss that made him forget about everything else. 

Harry came back after floating the orders to Ron and double-checking he didn’t need extra help in that back. He grabbed up his cards and said, “Where were we.”

Draco stood abruptly. “I should be going, actually. It’s getting late and I have a pile of parchments to sort through. Those papers on wolfsbane won’t grade themselves now will they?”

“What about our game?” Harry asked, sounding disappointed. More disappointed than Draco had expected. 

“Raincheck.” Draco stepped back from the counter and spun on his heel. He grabbed the large wooden door and headed out into the oranges and pinks of the sunset. There was a slight chill in the air as winter tried to hang on and Draco walked as quickly as he could, trying to outrun his latest revelation about his feelings for Harry. 

The feeling of being watched came anew as he passed back through Hogsmeade. He tucked his head down and tried to ignore the feeling like he was being followed by the intrusive watchers. He even ignored whoever it was calling his name hoping to make pleasant conversation or small talk about how the weathers been nice.

_ Merlin, it wasn’t just the coffee. It’s never been the coffee. How stupid I’ve been _ , Draco thought as he picked up the pace. He wanted to go to his rooms and shut himself under the covers like he used to when he was a child and stay there until his heart stopped racing and his stomach stopped sinking and his mind stopped racing. 

Just as he was passing Honeydukes, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It made him jump and shriek an undignified shriek. “What the…” 

When he turned to see who had the nerve to startle him, he was faced with Harry, who looked winded. His cheeks were pink and he was breathing raggedly. “Sorry,” he said in between ragged breaths. “You walk really fast by the way.”

Draco looked around the street, but there wasn’t anyone around to watch them. “I was in a hurry.”

“I called your name,” Harry said with a laugh. “A lot, actually.”

“I assumed you were some shopkeeper who wanted to discuss the weather or some other nonsense,” Draco answered with a nonchalant flick of the wrist as if he wasn’t internally trying to keep himself from just running off toward the castle. 

Harry smirked. “You really do hate small talk.”

“I do.”

“I know this about you.”

“You do.” Draco looked at Harry, really looked at him. In the waning sunlight, Harry looked like every hero on the covers of those romance novels his mother read. His skin was tanned, his eyes were still annoyingly green, but it was his smile that made him impossible to ignore. 

“I know a lot about you, in fact.” Harry walked closer to Draco and placed a hand on Draco’s waist. 

The touch burned through Draco like a supernova. Harry touched him a lot but never on the waist. Any rational comment Draco had died on his tongue and he stupidly said, “And I know a lot about you. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. What's the point?”

“I know you better now though.” 

“Okay?” Draco asked, looking down at Harry’s hand on his waist. His heart pounded against his ribs in an aching rhythm that begged him to lean into the touch, to invite more. 

Harry pulled Draco in and replied, “I like knowing things about you.”

Draco chuckled softly, his breath catching. “What are you saying?”

“I like what I know about you.” Harry’s words were innocent enough but they came out like an invitation into his bed. There was no mistaking the low rumble of his voice, the way he looked at Draco’s lips when he spoke.

Draco couldn’t believe what was happening. Harry Potter had him by the waist, in the middle of the street, and he was saying  _ things _ ...things that made Draco’s body react. He cleared his throat, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “Is that why you chased me down? To tell me you like knowing things about me?”

“Like for instance, I know you stopped putting sugar in your coffee two months ago because of that article Hermione showed us all about how bad sugar is for kids and you want to set a good example for Scorpius.”

Draco did not respond. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was sure his face was as pink as the sunset. He tried to pull away, give himself space to breathe, but Harry’s grip tightened and he pulled Draco back. 

“I also know you pull at your earlobe when you are thinking and that you always smell your coffee before you drink it. Every time. Oh, and that you really like when I wear blue. I know because you watch me more when I do.”

“Harry…” Draco said stupidly. He couldn’t find any other words. All his brain supplied him with was a string of incoherent babbling that mostly consisted of ‘his hand is on my waist.’ 

“And I also know you would never ask me out, even if it’s what you wanted because you would never want to jeopardize things between us, for the sake of our son’s friendship, of course.”

Draco’s mind finally caught up to the words Harry was saying and he couldn’t believe those either. “Harry, I, uh, I don’t know what you’re on about…”

Harry put a finger over Draco’s lips, gently, and said, “I also know your son means the world to you, and you know my kids are the world to me.”

“Harry…” Draco mumbled from behind Harry’s index finger which still rested on his lips. 

Harry shook his head. “Which is why I know you won’t admit you like me, so I’m going to admit it for you. You like me, Draco.” He let his finger drop, meaning Draco could respond now. 

Draco thought for a moment and said, “Of course I like you, we are friends.” He tried to pull away again when he spotted some people walking out of The Hogshead. They paid the pair of them no mind, but Draco worried all the same. People tend to notice Harry and when they do, it tends to end up in the papers and the last thing he needed was for Scorpius to see them huddled together on the front page of the Prophet. He’d never hear the end of that one. 

“No, you  _ like like _ me.” Harry dropped his hand this time, letting Draco step back, but he kept his gaze fizzed. “Maybe even more than you  _ like like _ coffee.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” Draco blurted out. He smiled even though he’d meant it to sound insulting. If it phased Harry at all, it didn’t show. 

“Now that I’ve admitted that you like me. Do you want to admit that I like you?” 

Draco felt a laugh bubbling in his throat at the ridiculousness of the situation. Was Harry really admitting that he liked Draco? And wasn’t that exactly what Draco wanted? Two things ran across his mind then: the first, Harry’s behavior about Draco having a date was because Harry wanted to go with him and that made Draco’s stomach flip; and second, it was a very bad idea for them to start something considering how bad things would be if it didn’t work out. 

He planned to say as much, but ended up saying, “You like me?”

“Almost.” Harry laughed. “Say it more like a statement, say it like you mean it.”

For some reason, Draco did as he was told and said it with conviction, said it like he believed it. “You like me.”

“So how about a date then, since we both admitted we like one another?”

“Harry, I don’t know…” Draco trailed off mid-thought. He wanted to say it was a bad idea because it was very likely a terrible idea no matter how badly every inch of Draco wanted to say yes. 

Harry’s face softened and he looked down, seeming less confident than he had a moment ago. When he looked up again, there was no hint of uncertainty. “Let me take you to the festival. As your date.”

“What if it doesn’t go well? What about our son’s? What about what people will think?”

“What if it does go well and everyone is happy that we are both finally admitting how we feel?” Harry asked, taking one of Draco’s hands between his. He stroked a thumb over Draco’s knuckles and the sensation made Draco’s pulse jump in his throat. 

Draco sighed. “You’re insufferable.” He felt a smile spread across his face and knew he wasn’t going to say no. It was exactly what he wanted—he wanted Harry. 

“And you’re impossible,” Harry said with a smirk. “So is that a yes?”

“It’s a…” Draco started but Harry cut him off. 

“You know what else I know about you?” He asked. 

“What?” 

“That your answer is yes.” Harry put his hand back on Draco’s waist and pulled him close this time, slipping his other hand around his torso so their chests were flush.

Draco leaned his head back giving him the space to look Harry in the eyes, “What are you doing?”

“I want to try something that I’ve been thinking about for a long time,” Harry said leaning in, but Draco pulled back nervous. Harry only smiled. “You know I’ve heard it works better if you stay still for this part.”

Draco felt his chest rising and falling quicker than it should but he stayed still this time as Harry leaned in again capturing his lips in a chaste kiss that was unsure and earth-shattering all at the same time. Draco relaxed into it and felt his hands, totally of their own accord, slide into place around Harry’s neck as Harry opened his mouth to him. Draco was lost in the feeling of Harry’s lips on his and all he could think was that Harry smelled like coffee and sweat and that smell that was so uniquely  _ Harry. _ It was the only thing he ever wanted to smell ever again. 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back feeling breathless and saw Harry looking as affected as Draco, himself, felt. Harry's cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen and red. He said, “Well, that was…”

Draco nodded. “Yes, it was.” He was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. He could still feel the kiss on his lips. 

Harry sighed out a deep, shaky breath and loosened his hold around Draco’s torso, but Draco grabbed his forearms and held him in place. He leaned forward because all he wanted was to kiss Harry until he couldn’t breathe. 

Without thinking, Draco muttered, more to himself than anything, “I’ll never hear the end of this.”

Harry smirked. “What does that mean?”

“Well, Scorpius sort of suggested that maybe I came to the cafe for more than the coffee and he was right, so when he finds out...well, you know how impossible a Malfoy can be.” Draco found he wasn’t as embarrassed as he thought he would be to admit that his son was right.

Harry laughed a hearty laugh then and pulled Draco in closer. He buried his head in Draco’s neck and whispered, “You think one Malfoy is bad, I’m gonna have to hear it from an entire Potter-Weasley clan and you know how insufferable we are.”

They stood there, holding each other and kissing in between laughs as the sun set fully below the horizon laughing in one another’s arms and Draco let himself believe what Harry told him so long ago. He let himself believe that he would have love again. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
